Finding Home
by krisleannew
Summary: Dean goes down. Sammy goes missing. Really missing. SPOILERS might be present season 3/4/5. Mature context can be found in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

"Where's Sam?"

As soon as Dean had walked through his door and he had confirmed it was really Dean, Bobby knew that was going to be the man's first question. Where was his baby brother? Not that Bobby blamed him. The last time Dean had seen Sam, Lilith sicked her hellhounds on him and Dean had no choice as his life left him, leaving Sam alone with the wicked bitch.

"He isn't…?"

"No, Dean, no," Bobby whispered and grabbed his hat from his head, threading the worn fabric between his calloused hands. It was a nervous habit and he hated it, but it calmed him somewhat. Taking a seat, Bobby waved for Dean to also take one and let out a long breath. "At least, from what I'm aware of."

Dean barely made it into the worn leather of the old couch before he leapt up in shock. "What you do mean? You haven't talked to him?" He seethed.

"He ran out," Bobby recalled back to Dean. "He was real quiet, boy and understandably so. We had just buried _you._ He waited for me to leave him alone for a few hours, smart kid he is, and left a note. One word. _Sorry._ I've searched high and tall for him, Dean, but the damn kid just doesn't want to be found."

Dean stalked across the short room, his breathing quick and short. He was livid, angry that Sam would just walk out on Bobby and disappear just as quietly. Yet, he didn't blame his brother. He was sure that he would've done something, if not more, dramatic than Sam. Without a word, he called the last phone company Sam had and got his GPS location. Pontiac, Illinois.

"That's where I was," Dean whispered. The evidence was adding up now as they dug further and further into Sam's location. Sam must've done something to bring his big brother back from the pits of Hell. "I was buried only a few miles from there. God dammit." Dean punched the table, cursing his little brother.

"Let's go. We'll track that idgit down and… well, we'll figure everything out from there. Now, scoot," Bobby, gentle and sturdy, guided his son to one of his junky cars he had running and sat Dean down into the worn leather passenger seat. With a speed that even surprised dare-devil Dean, Bobby had made it to Pontiac and to the exact location of where Sam was in less than five hours.

Dean stormed up onto the 4th floor of the motel, pounding on the last door on the end of the hallway, expecting Sam to open up. He imagined wrapping his brother in his arms, smelling home, and finally being back together, as brothers and so much more. But his hopes died in vain as a beautiful girl stepped out asking where the pizza was. Both hunters were sorely confused, even more so when the bathroom door opened and out walked a man. He resembled Sam in height and stature and long brunette hair, but the man had mild blue eyes that seemed to be hazed with alcohol and not the weight of the world. He stared at them, almost fascinated, before he continued over to the bed that was situated in the middle of the room.

"We, uh, we got the wrong room, sorry," Dean waved and walked back outside with Bobby, fists clenched and his breathing rough. "Where the fuck…" He stalled as he saw his baby sitting in the field of cars and he smiled wide. Maybe Sam was-

Blood. A lot of dried blood surrounded the tires of the Impala and Dean knew, just fucking knew, that that was Sam's blood on the black asphalt. The signs of dreary motels reflected off of it and he barely kept in his choke of surprise. "Sam!" He called out as he ran to the car, searching in vain for his little brother. While there was no body, no other signs that Sam even had the car, Dean had found a folded note titled in his name. It was a simple white, although the paper looked like it was soaked in the dry blood. Dean held his breath as he opened the folded paper and dropped it just as quickly as he picked it up. It fluttered from his fingertips, landing straight up so that Bobby could read Sam's slanted writing from over Dean's shoulder and even he could barely contain the harsh breath he tried to conceal.

 _I had to._

* * *

It was hot. Sweat glistened off of olive toned skin as the man moved slightly. He was tired and dehydrated, his soul even more so. Sam sighed as his hand brushed up against the burning iron wall he was contained in and slowly wretched it back, not caring that it was burnt. He could barely feel at all as he rolled back onto the amazingly cooler floor. Most imprisonments were cold, but of course, everything about his were opposite. The torture, the emotions, the god damn hallucinations and visions. Everything was wrong and so was Sam. Sam felt all kinds of wrong, but smiled despite it. Dean was free, he could feel it in his bones, and he sighed as peace washed over him. It would be the last of feelings for him in the weeks and months to come and he would soon enough allow his soul to finally be sucked into oblivion, wherever the demon was keeping it. But for that moment and that moment alone, his eyes fluttered shut, escaping his isolated hell if only for a few moments.


	2. Chapter 2

SO I was a little impatient and fast forwarded time in the best of ways. Writing about Dean having to find Sam was out of my reach, no matter how far I spun it, so here it is. Hopefully you all can follow the leap and understand I'm just not gifted or creative enough to write about Dean/Bobby struggling through the journey to find Sam. So, here's to my impatience and hoping that you guys still like this story. Just so you all do know, even with Sam found, the summary is still true, so I'm sure you'll see what happens when I mean Sam is missing. Enjoy the chapter :)

* * *

Dean didn't allow the note to deter him as he and Bobby continually searched for Sam. While it had been months, almost a year and a half, they finally had enough hard evidence that located Dean's better half. It took too many demons, too much blood and too much time for the two as they hunted everything down. They were relentless in their search and finally, finally it paid off as the last demon sang like a canary before they sent it back into Hell. It was a strange place, a place in the middle of South America where the touch of humanity was missing, but they were positive he was there. It took awhile to drive down to the spot, both of them knowing that they would need the Impala and it's collection of weapons to help them as they went to help his brother. The pair of hunters hiked into the forest as soon as they arrive while marking their path up so that the way down was easier. They weren't stupid enough to think that Sam was miraculously ok, but they were hoping that it wasn't as bad as their wild imaginations conjured up.

By high noon, they reached the exact spot that Sam would be. The sun shone primarily in the middle of the field and sweat beads rolled down both men as they caught a quick breathe. With no longer than a seconds rest with water and food, Dean began to dig with Bobby at his side. Neither were sure how this spell or whatever was placed upon this place worked, but both males knew that it had kept Sam alive for all this time. It took hours, almost half of the rest of the day with barely any resting in between, before they hit the iron cage that was buried underneath the soil and even longer to dig out an entrance to the damn thing.

Dean's body ached and called for rest. His clothes were entirely soaked with his sweat and he was positive he never had been so tired in his life. Remembering that he had to keep his strength up for, not him, but for Sam, he guzzled some water and ate a granola bar before finally finishing the tunnel where they could get Sam out. "Sam," Dean called, probably for the millionth time that day. There was still no reply and it fueled him to finally, _finally,_ break down the damn door the box had (of course it had to have a door?). Dean kicked the silvery door in and stepped into the dark atmosphere of the interior of the cube. "Sam?"

Flipping on his flashlight, Dean almost regretted it. He was barely able to hold down his small snack sitting in his stomach as he took in what had been Sam's prison. It was small and no light bled into the obsidian atmosphere and he could feel the unnatural, burning heat surrounding it. The heaviness in the air fell upon him as he finally saw what used to be his brother. Bundled in a corner, Sam sat staring at him. His skin was dull and unlike his usual olive color and his arms and legs were atrophied, barely hidden behind a scrap of a thin, hole filled white tank top and black boxer shorts. Blood seemed to drip off of wounds carelessly and sweat decorated his brothers hued skin, but even with all these horrors, Dean would never forget Sam's eyes. Blank, hazel-black eyes lazily traced up Dean and a small grunt of a laugh escaped Sam's tired lungs as Dean rushed forward.

"…'live," Dean barely caught the last word and placed his hands on Sam's charred shoulders drawing him away from the wall. The skin peeled as the walls crisped the skin and Dean's stomach hitched. With a soft gentleness, Dean drew his little brother from the wall and gagged at the smell of burnt skin.

"It's ok, Sam. I've got you," he kept reassuring him as he took care of Sam's wounds as best and as quickly as he could. His brother needed a hospital months ago, but because hospitals would ask too many questions, they practically brought everything a hospital could supply to a small cabin within the strange woods.

After Dean disappeared inwards, Bobby had quickly finished getting together the needed supplies and rushed into the strange box. Without a thought about the prison, him and Dean got Sam's injuries under clean bandages and ointments, stitches in place, and were just about to carry the tortured Winchester out. With a strength fueled by adrenalin, both men hefted the weight of the youngest and began a steady pace out of the hell that captured Sam.

It took too many hours and too close calls for Dean, but they finally made it back to his… no, their beloved Impala. He heard Sam whisper "Baby" so softly that tears formed in Dean's eyes. Home. They were bringing Sam home. "Come on, Sam," Dean placed Sam with care in the made up back bench of their mobile home and watched as Sam drifted off into a fitful sleep. Dean was amazed that Sam had made it this far, had fought off passing out until they were safe. His brother had built up a strength that should have never been built, but he did it beautifully.


	3. Chapter 3

The week Dean finally brought Sam to their makeshift home in a cabin, Sam was in and out of consciousness. His body was fighting diseases and trying to heal itself. Even though Sam was weakened with the traumatic experience in the box, Dean was surprised as his brother fought all the needles and medicines they were pumping into him. Multiple times had Sam sent his brother flying into the walls and floors of the room. Dean was sure he had more bruises from _helping_ his brother than _fighting_ his brother. But Dean fought back, sticking him with the IV's and making sure he got the nutrients he needed while Sam was stuck in bed.

The weirdest thing about it, other than Sam being able to knock Dean on his ass while in bed, was that Sam never said a word. Never. Not as he threw his brother around or fought everything that they tried to help. No words, ever, escaped the mouth of Sam Winchester. That accompanied with his blank looking eyes, Dean was officially concerned. It wasn't that Dean expected his brother to be one hundred percent or even acting remotely like himself, he just expected… something. Even with his strange behavior, he expected his brother to be somewhat remotely happy that they rescued him and that Dean was out of Hell, but he never expressed it in words or actions. Hell, Dean expected tears and a haunted look that he would chase away with kisses and love (not that he would admit to it), but none of that was there. But as strange as it was, Dean found something more disturbing than his speechless brother. Sam's light and creamy hazel eyes never returned from the blackened browns and greens. They were still dusty and mute. Dean found that to be the hardest part of Sam's healing. His eyes.

It was weeks before Sam finally gained full consciousness and Dean's mind sighed with relief. His brother's body had been wrecked with fever and infections, causing major distress on the abused man in the bed and it had been too much of a struggle to keep the oh-so-important IV's in their ports and making Sam swallow the medicines. Now everything had seemed to be less intense, the fever dropping and the wounds healing. The best part of his healing? Sam was finally speaking, or well, somewhat speaking. Yet, even with Sam awake and back with them, Dean's big brother and lover instincts seemed to be going haywire. Something about Sam was off and not in the 'I just got out of being tortured for a long ass time' wrong.

Dean shook himself from his musings. Sam had been able to get out of bed and train again, his body healing unnaturally fast. Sometimes though, him and Sam would sit on the porch and just listen to the world speak and Sam had requested they do that today. The sun was high in the sky and while there were a few dark clouds milling about, it was a soft, warm temperature. A perfect day for the younger Winchester to rest out in its nature. Sam made his way onto the creaking porch of the cabin and stared at the sun, the clouds, the strange green forest that surrounded them. Nothing. He felt absolutely nothing as he gazed around.

"I feel strange, Dean," he finally admitted as he rested against the red hued, plastic chair. It creaked as he maneuvered in it, finding a comfortable position. Sam was finally ready to talk about what had really happened to him, what he did for his big brother.

"Ya, well you might for a while," Dean gave a small smile, hand laying across Sam's own massive paw. He was used to the strange, cryptic sentences that seemed to form out of his younger brother's mouth by now. Even with those, he was just happy that Sam was ok and would take anything, fight anything, and be anything for his brother as he healed. Dean was minutely surprised that Sam had even began the conversation, often relying on Dean's doting way's to begin talking.

Sam shook his long, wild mane and dropped his eyelids, shielding himself from the uncolored world now. "No, not like that," he denied. Sam found himself denying a lot the weeks that he had awoken wrecked with a hellish fever. Denying what had happened to him, what he allowed, what he gave. He denied everything that he could, but he knew he was only denying the truth. "I'm missing something."

Dean also was in the mood to deny. Deny that what Sam was saying was true, but he knew deep down that something was missing from his bigger, younger brother. What it was? He believed that Sam knew, but was keeping it to himself, shielding himself from the anger that Dean would undoubtedly unleash upon him.

"It was a long time ago," Sam began, emotionless eyes finally opening and taking in the nature that used to be beautiful to him. The greens no longer struck a chord in him, the blue heavens no longer sung with birds soaring in its aired grace. Nothing. "I remember a lot, Dean, especially the the day that you were retrieved from Hell," he swung his head towards his brother, eyes not shifting under any emotion. "You were out. I could feel it as you climbed out of that pine box, out of the soil, and up onto Earth. I felt a peace wash over me and, Dean," he allowed a fake smile to cross his lips, "My deal took."

"So you did deal," Dean muttered, anger clenching his jaws tight and his hand gripping Sam's hard. "Why?"

"It's not hard to figure out," Sam breathed, removing his hand from his brothers. "You were my big brother, I'd do anything for you." The past tense of the word didn't make it past Dean as Sam continued. "I gave myself a lifetime of being alone, in a prison made specifically to torture me, to destroy me to save you. I gave myself for you, Dean." Something about the way Sam muttered the words without a flicker of emotion almost ripped out Dean's own vocal chords. Being Sam's big brother meant knowing everything about Sam, including how emotional Sam could get. This would've been a big-blow out chick flick moment if not for Sam acting strange. But, as Dean glared out at the too green grass blowing in the mid-day breeze, Sam dropped the bomb that his big brother feared more than ever. "I gave my soul for you."


End file.
